


Burnout

by 127ghouls



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16220495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/127ghouls/pseuds/127ghouls
Summary: Taeyong doesn’t hear the last count and only takes note of the hankie being thrown to the ground before he frees the break and shoots down the road, speeding home.





	Burnout

**Author's Note:**

> burnout /noun/: (1) the practice of keeping a vehicle stationary and spinning its wheels, causing the tires to heat up and smoke due to friction (2) exhaustion of physical or emotional strength or motivation usually as a result of prolonged stress or frustration
> 
> vague background: jaehyun and taeyong have been dating since college, and they're the same age in this fic. taeyong's from an extremely well-off family, raised in a household lacking of close ties. jaehyun's from a middle class family.

“We’re getting down in 3!”

Taeyong stomps on the clutch, depressing as the engine revs, bringing itself to life in the dead of the night, in the middle of a Seoul freeway. The sound of cars roaring into preparation for lightning speed makes his blood run smooth through his veins, pumping his heart in double rates per minute. The flagger raises a hankie, he sees from the corner of his eyes and the few audiences howl in excitement especially when he releases the clutch and he knew his tires are burning against the rough road, the thick, white smoke covering their sight but they get even louder. Everyone can do a burnout, but rarely do they make it as stunning as Taeyong does.

He glances at the Milan Red next to him and meets Yuta’s eyes, taunting. Yuta’s always been a prick, refusing to close his windows with a reason that the tint is too dark and everyone has to see his winning face. To say the least, he’s never had to show his face. Not when he’s never won a single race before. He’s relatively new but Taeyong’s taken a liking to the Japanese. Yuta’s confident, sometimes too confident for his own good. The Milan Red is obviously borrowed, its owner standing outside with a frown on his face. Who wouldn’t, Johnny lost a bet and is now sacrificing the glory of his _baby_ in the hands of Nakamoto Yuta, notorious loser and lousy driver. If the car ends up having to be taken to an automotive repair shop, the Japanese can bargain the price with his own bike. The BMW K1200S doesn’t look so bad – but Johnny doesn’t fancy motorcycles.

Taeyong doesn’t hear the last count and only takes note of the hankie being thrown to the ground before he frees the break and shoots down the road, speeding home.

Racing is his passion, albeit not given the chance to join an official one because Jaehyun hates it, dislikes the thought of him putting one of his feet on the grave. _It’s dangerous, you could die!_ But Taeyong’s life belongs on the highway, speeding past lights that create a palette of colors in his peripheral vision. The adrenaline boosts him, reminding him that life is short and all there is to do in this world is enjoy it. Risk it. Taeyong’s going to do just that.

He avoids colliding with Yuta when they make it to a curve, turning the stirring wheel as rapidly as he can, the wheels screeching and leaving heavy marks on the road which the police will find when the sun comes up, but Taeyong will be sound asleep in their bed without worries, and with only dreams of driving the Bugatti Chiron he’s maneuvering at the moment. It’s his own, a gift from his parents when he turned 24 a few months ago.

It’s a short race, he checks the rearview mirror and smirks because Yuta doesn’t really know how to deal with curves, clumsily turning and slowing down a few seconds before he manages to continue. Fortunately, they chose a time when freeways are lacking of cars as people hit the sack. Taeyong checks the GPS for police hotspot, just to be sure no one’s about to tail them and quickly makes a U-Turn when he reaches the nearest one, making it back to the crowd as he zooms past the familiar hankie. It’s his game again, his win. They’re only celebrating for him.

When he exits the Chiron, a wad of cash is slapped on the palm of his hand. Yuta stops the engine and gets off, tossing the key to Johnny with a sorry excuse of a _thanks_ in heavily accented English before he hops on his bike. They’re both sweating not because of exhaustion, but due to the buzzing pleasure yet to die in their veins.

“You should really sign up for KARA, you know. Your skills are going to waste,” Yuta says while adjusting the Velcro strap of his gloves. “Unless you’re only doing this for the sake of it.”

Taeyong is a private person. They (read: Johnny, Yuta) know about Jaehyun, but they do not know about Jaehyun being strictly against street racing. And they certainly do not know about Taeyong submitting to Jaehyun.

“Dad needs me in the company. They don’t want a racer for a son who will inherit their business soon and will require a background decent enough to be recognized a _Lee._ Besides, I can do this whenever I can until I join the board of trus-fucking-tees.” It’s pure bullshit Taeyong managed to pull out of himself. They might be acquaintances, sure. But that’s it; they’re not close enough to know what’s really going on in the deeper parts of their lives other than cars, their common interest. Yuta takes the lie with a bat of an eye because at night, it’s even harder to detect from Taeyong’s sharp features whether he’s saying the truth or not. He’s closed off, not that it matters.

He thrusts the cash in his back pocket and gets back inside the car, revving the engine once more before driving back to the penthouse.

 

 

 

The lights are out when he comes in and Jaehyun’s presence doesn’t linger around the living room, not even in the kitchen. Taeyong switches the corner lights on to see the way, and promptly heads to the master’s bedroom, poking his head in.

But Jaehyun is still nowhere to be found.

It’s nearing 4 in the morning. When Taeyong decides to visit the last room, he lets out a sigh and locks the door behind him with a soft click before approaching the worn body crouching over the study desk. Jaehyun doesn’t jerk from his touch, shoulders only sagging before turning away from the manuscript.

“Where have you been?”

Taeyong doesn’t respond because Jaehyun already knows. Instead, he sweeps in for a kiss on a pair of chapped lips. “It’s late, babe. Let’s go to bed.”

Exhausted for many reasons, Jaehyun doesn’t try anymore and only pulls away to get up and turn the lamp off. He’s already in his sleeping clothes, Taeyong notices. The other must have gone to bed earlier but couldn’t sleep because Taeyong’s gone without a word, _again,_ and being the thoughtful boyfriend that he is, Jaehyun decided to stay up instead just in case something urgent happens.

When Taeyong steps out of the shower in a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt, Jaehyun’s already sleeping.

 

 

 

It is past noon when Taeyong wakes up. The other side of the bed is cold; Jaehyun must have woken up early. After a quick shower, he puts on some shirt and jeans. Who knows, one of the boys might call him later for another race. The races don’t really get officially organized, most of the time they’re unplanned and out of the blue to avoid the police tracking them. It’s illegal, and no matter how reckless Taeyong is, he won’t risk getting jail time.

He finds Jaehyun perched on the kitchen counter, a fork in one hand, a bowl next to him and phone in another hand. His brows are creased into what Taeyong knows is evident worry, and he’s quick to make himself known. Jaehyun stops whatever he’s doing to throw him a knowing look.

Taeyong sighs. “I’m sorry,” He walks across from the counter to the fridge and fetches himself a bottle of water. “I should’ve called you. But you didn’t have to stay up for me.”

“I didn’t stay up for you. I knew what you were doing, I was just restless and I thought I should work on the manuscript. Then you returned.” Jaehyun clarifies, brushing his pants off of cookie crumbs. The bowl is now empty and Taeyong whines. Jaehyun’s chocolate chip cookies are the best.

A little peeved, Taeyong chugs the water down in a few gulps before walking back to where Jaehyun is, giving his boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek. He half expects the other to pull away in annoyance, to push him and express his disappointment but Jaehyun, _oh kind Jaehyun,_ wraps an arm around Taeyong’s smaller frame to return a kiss on the lips. He keens, responding to the lip-lock. He didn’t even realize how much he missed Jaehyun. They were both busy, with Taeyong attending meetings in his father’s company and occasionally engaging in street racing, which Jaehyun is openly opposed to. Jaehyun spends most of his time _trying_ to write more, but with Taeyong being hard to spot and corner for a talk, the story lacks progress.

The book he writes is about Taeyong, about an aspiring racer’s dream to reach the end and prove himself worthy. It’s basically a true to life story, nothing really phenomenal, and it’s not moving because Taeyong is tired all the time, tired enough to avoid Jaehyun’s short interviews. Jaehyun supports his dreams, but what he doesn’t like is how everything’s illegal – and dangerous. It’s extra dangerous because the competitions are unofficial, disorganized, without a medic in case something bad happens.

When they pull away for air, Taeyong’s cheeks are flushed. Jaehyun chuckles and leaves a peck on Taeyong’s forehead. “You don’t have any schedule in the office?”

“No. I asked dad for a break, so you have me all to yourself for today.”

Jaehyun hops off the counter, puts the bowl in the sink and half drags Taeyong to the living room. The other looks particularly excited today. Taeyong guesses it’s because for once, he’s not scrambling to juggle tasks given by his father, which he mostly sets aside for leisure purposes. Jaehyun takes the spot next to him with legs crossed, computer on his lap.

“Tell me about last night.”

He racks his brain for all the important details. Taeyong recounts the exhilaration of feeling the tires spinning yet the car stays static, the smoke clouding everyone’s vision and adding fuel to the burning anticipation of witnessing who was about to win. Taeyong tells Jaehyun about Yuta and his bargain with Johnny, the pitiful BMW being collateral item in case the Milan Red ends up with a scratch or two. Jaehyun snorts in the middle, mumbling something about luxury and splurge of money on material things that Taeyong flat-out ignores. Of course, Taeyong’s smug when he tells his boyfriend of his win and it is only then he remembers the wad of cash he carelessly slipped in the back of his jeans. He can use that to restock their fridge with more beer and baking ingredients.

“Is that all?”

There’s a press in Jaehyun’s tone, prompting Taeyong to look at him in the eyes. When he fails to get what the other’s implying, Jaehyun saves the document, puts the laptop away and leans in, brow raised as he stares in the blackness of Taeyong’s pupils.

“Nothing happened that I should worry about?”

This is always how their talks end up, a reason why Taeyong barely gives Jaehyun the chance to sit him down for a conversation about his racing activities. Jaehyun worries all the time, worries too much to the point that Taeyong worries about Jaehyun being overprotective of him. Although, apparently, his worries are not enough to stop racing and make Jaehyun feel better. Besides, Jaehyun’s story relies on him. If he stops, then Jaehyun has no book to publish.

He leaves the couch with a huff, causing Jaehyun to frown and follow him to the bedroom. Taeyong suddenly wants to go back to sleep and never listen to whatever Jaehyun will say. Does he ever?

“Be honest, Taeyong. You know I hate worrying about y- “

“Then stop worrying about me! Jaehyun, I’m getting sick of this, okay? No matter what you say, I won’t stop racing anyway. So stop trying to be my parent, stop babying me.” Taeyong grunts and throws himself to bed, ready to cover both ears with pillows when Jaehyun climbs in and tears them away from him, glaring.

“I’m your boyfriend and you’re telling me this? Do you really want me to stop worrying about you? You know this is fucking illegal, Taeyong. With all the inexperienced and unlicensed people handling it, if anyone even handles it, how can I be sure that you’re going to be safe? You know I support you, but please consider my feelings- “

Taeyong sits up and matches Jaehyun’s glare, jabbing a finger against the other’s chest. “You only support me because you need me to finish your book. If I stop, what’s becoming of you? Why don’t you just shut up and let me do what I wanna do,”

“You must be underestimating me, Taeyong.”

Jaehyun frowns deeper when Taeyong smirks, provoking him. 

“No, you’re underestimating me. If you want me to stop doing this, then I’m leaving you.” Taeyong gets off the bed and heads towards the door, only to be stopped by an iron grip around his wrist. It hurts, but he bites back a triumphant grin instead. He knows Jaehyun can’t be too hard on him. Taeyong is his greatest weakness and the former’s taking advantage of it, guilt be damned.

His voice is soft when he speaks, pleading Taeyong not to go. The latter will bet the writer’s broken; it’s too easy for Jaehyun to break, especially when it concerns the racer. “Yong, please don’t…”

Of course he’s not doing it, he’s not leaving. Taeyong pulls the breakup card out of his sleeves when it’s convenient. Jaehyun will bend and take it all back just to make sure he stays. Taeyong will stay, he’s not going anywhere. A little scare won’t hurt Jaehyun, right?

He turns around and stands in between Jaehyun’s legs, eyes downcast. The grip around his wrist loosens and Jaehyun wraps sturdy arms around Taeyong’s thin waist instead, face buried on the other’s stomach. His breath is hot, fanning against Taeyong’s skin. It’s a steady breathing, but he knows Jaehyun’s only trying to keep it in. When his heart clenches for a bit, Taeyong wills it away. If he feels soft even just for a little bit, Jaehyun might think he’s weak and easy to sway. No, it’s the other way around.

“Don’t go, please. You can continue racing,”

A smile almost curls up on his lips, thinking he has won the round. But Jaehyun isn’t done yet. The taller man sitting in bed looks up at him, eyes reflecting a sea of pleas and a drop of hope.

“In one condition.”

“What condition?” Taeyong grabs Jaehyun’s arms but the other only tightens the hug.

“You’ll race, but you have to join KARA. Stop racing illegally, Taeyong. At least when there’s an official organization, I know you’ll be in good hands.”

The arms leave his waist and for a second, Taeyong misses the warmth. He maintains the eye contact for a little longer before closing his eyes as he feels a pounding headache begin to creep up. Jaehyun is right, Jaehyun has always been right. Taeyong feels a light kiss on his forehead before pressing up against his boyfriend, gripping the sides of Jaehyun’s shirt.

“KARA….it’s serious, Jae. I have no professional experience. They won’t accept me. They accept me in the streets; no one bats an eye knowing I’m a nobody. KARA is huge; they won’t accept me, Jae.” His insecurities have hit him like a truck again, slamming into Taeyong’s mind and eating up the last bits of his confidence. The thought of joining the official racing organization of Korea scares him. There will be a lot of challenges before he can prove himself worth of recognition. It’s easier in the streets, when people are only curious and interested with luxury cars and not the sport itself. Taeyong can easily hide his anxiety behind the shine of his Bugatti, drowned in its monstrous engine sounds. No one cares about him there. KARA is something else.

Jaehyun hums softly as if soothing his fears, which calms Taeyong a bit. Jaehyun understands him; he always does. “I’ll be there for you, I promise. You know I only want your happiness, baby. You want to be popular someday, right? You want to be the best. You can’t be the best when no one guides you, Yong. Trust me. It’ll be better.”

They’re like a game of Tug-o-War, pulling at each other until someone stumbles and wins. Taeyong had the upper hand, but his demons got the worst of him, and Jaehyun takes advantage of the open chance. They’re playing a game being with each other, and as toxic as it is, they’re the only ones who will understand the other better. Dysfunctional yet it works.

When Taeyong nods, Jaehyun kisses the side of his head. It’s done, the talk’s over, the old argument’s settled. Taeyong thinks of a full house arena, fans of different teams raising banners to support their ace drivers. Taeyong thinks of himself inside one of the vehicles, wearing his uniform to represent his team. Pride blooms in his chest. He can do it, he will do it.

As long as Jaehyun doesn’t break his promise.

 

 

 

They managed to arrange an appointment with the president of the organization exactly a week later. Taeyong is gladly spared from his corporate duties, fortunately being the son of the company’s CEO. Jaehyun got to fill three more pages in his manuscript. So far, so good. It looks like things are going according to plan.

They wait for the president in a well-lit office with a round table. It’s freezing, the air condition system feels like it’s on full blast from how nervous and jittery Taeyong is. He glances at the door, thinking of walking out and forgetting everything. Jaehyun must have sensed how the gears are turning counter clockwise in Taeyong’s head and gives his cold hand a squeeze, reassuring.

Taeyong almost jumps out of his seat when the door opens. The president flashes both of them a welcoming smile before offering a handshake.

“Lee Taeyong. You want to join us, am I correct?”

He pathetically nods, forgetting his words. Thankfully, it wasn’t taken as rude. The man in front of him, Mr. Cho doesn’t look like he knows what’s rude and what’s not. Oddly, his presence feels homey.

“Well, we are always open for hopefuls. Like the protocol, we allow newbies to join try-outs and from there, we’ll see if you have the potential that we want to nourish. Try-outs are simple. You only get to drive the karts.”

Mr. Cho hands both of them brochures. At the front is KARA’s logo. “There is also an upcoming amateur competition. We do it yearly for the different teams to gather new recruits. If you impress them, you might get to join the best teams in Asia.”

Taeyong’s eyes widen, hands gripping the brochure. “Is there a chance for me to join the CJ Sports?” He almost shouts in excitement when the president confirms his question. Jaehyun watches the exchange with a content smile although his brain swirls with racing technicalities he will never understand. What he only knows is that Taeyong’s hopeful again.

The meeting ends with Taeyong signing papers to officially join the try-outs.

 

 

 

The try-out doesn’t happen until three days later. Aforementioned try-out left Taeyong sleepless as his whole being buzzed with convergence of emotions, causing Jaehyun to lose much needed rest as well, opting to listen to his boyfriend’s rants about sports cars, the latest BMW releases that Yuta spammed in the GC, and future plans once he’s got his hands on a trophy.

(“I don’t know much about hypercars, Taeyong.” Jaehyun slurs after getting woken up by a flurry of noises coming from Taeyong’s laptop. The other’s watching a few videos, fuelling his anticipation of the try-out. With a dismissive wave and a dizzying kiss, sleep dissipates from Jaehyun. Needless to say he loses a few hours of bedtime, but he finds himself feeling no regrets. All for Taeyong, he supposes.)

Jaehyun settles on the bleachers, feet perched on the seat in front of him as he types away on the laptop - continuing to update his story, more like an anecdote of his aspiring racing champion when Taeyong hollers at him from the track, covered with racing overalls. He’s already got his helmet on, and he has this stupidly handsome smile on his face. Jaehyun’s chest warms up. He sends Taeyong a thumb’s up that gets unnoticed when his boyfriend settles inside one of the karts.

A short prayer is muttered under his breath, he isn’t much of a religious person but Jaehyun will always worry over Taeyong. He’s involved in a dangerous sport after all. Taeyong is not the only one present in the try-out, there are three others with him and Jaehyun really hopes no one gets injured.

The flag waves, signaling the start of the race. The laptop is completely forgotten as Jaehyun leaves his seat, eyes trained on Taeyong who’s currently second in place. So far, it’s relatively loud with the smooth swoosh of engines and dash of karts that Jaehyun misses Taeyong once or twice. They’re apparently going to complete 30 laps, and it’s honestly mundane but the lingering fear in Jaehyun’s heart refuses to ease. He doesn’t take his eyes off the tracks, and when one of the karts pull over to the side to get the one of the tires changed due, his heart hammers, thinking of possible reasons as to why. Taeyong does not pull over for pit stop, driving past the others. Jaehyun vaguely wonders why, maybe the kart doesn’t require quick improvement; maybe Taeyong thinks he doesn’t need it.

The writer only gets to release a shaky sigh, a breath of relief when Taeyong’s kart halts after rounding the last lap. He’s quick to get out of the kart, hair completely disheveled and sticking against his sweaty forehead once the helmet’s out of the way. Admittedly, he looks good, _hot_ even, panting heavily like that and brushing past crew members to run to the bleachers. Jaehyun’s breath almost gets knocked out of his lungs when Taeyong literally launches at him, arms tightly wrapped around the writer and smile so wide that it’s blinding. His laugh sounds like bells in Jaehyun’s ears, something he’ll never get tired of hearing.

“You saw that, you saw that, right? I placed first, Jaehyun! I’m getting in!” Taeyong excitedly announces, bouncing on his heels, making him seem younger than he is. Jaehyun could only give his boyfriend a kiss which Taeyong highly appreciates if the breathtaking response says something.

“You deserve it, baby. I’m so proud of you,” Jaehyun kisses him again and cocks his head to the direction of the president. He flushes in embarrassment when he realizes they’re being watched. “Come on; let’s get you signed for membership, okay?”

 

 

 

The next month is spent with Taeyong practicing at the arena. Jaehyun takes the time to work on his book, fingers typing non-stop since Taeyong readily shares about his day now. He doesn’t sneak out of the penthouse anymore to engage in street racing. Coincidentally, the police catches on to the illegal activity and puts the racers behind bars, especially the ones who were actively trading drugs during the game, something that rarely happened when Taeyong was there. The company puts Taeyong on hold, his position is being discussed whether it is to be opened for hiring. His family is aware of him joining KARA, and sometimes Jaehyun goes to the racer’s practice with Taeyong’s sister.

It’s a little past five in the afternoon when his phone pings with an email from his editor. It’s about the upcoming deadline. Jaehyun needs to finish his manuscript as soon as possible to enter a conference. Participants from all over the world with their published books get to promote themselves. It’s a huge event, once a year, and it’s surprisingly held in Seoul. He cannot miss this; it’s his chance to prove that he can go somewhere with writing. It’s going to be his debut as a writer, and attending the event is an opportunity to meet the biggest names in the world of literature.

His phone pings again, this time with a message from Taeyong.

_r u free right now?_

_practice is over and my body hurts ; ;_

_let’s eat outside, my treat._

_picking u up in 20 :***_

Three minutes before 20, the Bugatti Chiron stops in front of the condominium and Jaehyun gets in the shotgun seat, immediately buckling up. “I can never get used to the attention this car gets every time. The stares are painfully obvious.”

Taeyong laughs before maneuvering to the highway. “My baby deserves it. Let people ogle.”

“You’re the baby here, Yong.” Jaehyun flirts and he smiles smugly when Taeyong’s cheeks blush. For someone who drives a sports car, people would expect that the driver to be tough and arrogant. Taeyong is anything but. He’s a big softie sometimes. The ride to the nearest Italian restaurant only takes them less than 10 minutes; the road’s fortunately spacious today, partnered with the fast wheels of Taeyong’s _baby._

The restaurant is fitting for Taeyong’s exquisite taste. Round tables for two fill the area yet it’s not cramped, the soft violins play for a couple at the far end; it must be a special day for them. The place is decorated with gold ornate, accentuated by the chandeliers hanging off high ceilings.

They dine over _Zuppa di Cozze, Carpaccio di manzo,_ and _Stella Rosa Rosso._ It’s an unofficial date since no one really announced it as it is, but Jaehyun would like to think of this as one. They rarely enjoy their time together, so might as well bask in it now.

“Do you like your food?” Taeyong inquires after a bite of sliced beef tenderloin. The sweet music lingers in the air, making Jaehyun feel lightheaded even before taking a sip of his wine.

“I do. You won’t take me to places you don’t like.” It’s true. Even before they became official, Taeyong loves to impress. Money isn’t an issue, he has it all. Jaehyun must have saved an important person in his past life to meet such a lovely man. And Taeyong’s a needy sub. It’s total jackpot.

When their bellies are full and warm, Taeyong drives along the freeway, escaping the hustle and bustle of the city. It’s already almost seven. David Pomeranz plays in the stereo.

The car pulls over on a rocky ground. There isn’t anyone around, albeit the place is a hot spot for couples to spend the night overlooking cityscapes. It’s cold, winter is just around the corner. Jaehyun wraps Taeyong in a hug, warming the latter’s back. The city looks small from where they are, covered in twinkling lights from high rise buildings, amusement parks, and others that the naked eye cannot decipher anymore. It’s mostly golden yellow, with a few silver and rare others. It’s oddly nostalgic, because they haven’t been here before but something akin to past memories gnaw in the back of Jaehyun’s head, as well in the core of his chest. In his arms, Taeyong lightly shudders.

“I like to imagine we’re standing on a precipice right now. We’re taller than everyone – “

“You’re a tiny baby, Taeyong.” Jaehyun interjects, tittering.

“Shut up. Let me finish. So okay, we’re taller than everyone and we can see everything that happens below us. Doesn’t it make you feel something? Like, there’s this feeling spreading across your chest. I honestly want to cry right now. Out of sadness? No. But I’m definitely not happy because I’m overlooking the city. It’s… _overwhelming._ We’re so high up here, Jaehyun. It feels like I’m closer to my dreams, to victory.” Taeyong releases a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding.

It takes Jaehyun a minute or two to formulate a response. “The competition is nearing, and I know you’ll make it. You don’t have to win it, Yong. It’s only your first official race. You’ll make it because you’ll show them what you’ve got, and they will scramble to win you over. I’ve seen how you race, and you have the will and passion for it, baby. You don’t have to win it now; you’ll get there eventually.” When he’s done, he makes sure to leave a kiss on the side of Taeyong’s head. It always makes things better.

Taeyong turns around with uncertainty dancing in his eyes. “You’ll be there for me, right? You’ll watch me, cheer for me? I’ve told my family, but they’re all busy that day. They wished me luck, though.”

Reaching to hold Taeyong’s hands, Jaehyun smiles reassuringly. “Of course, it’s your first race. I’ll be there, I promise. And I’ll be there on your next competition, on the third, fourth, until the last. You’re my everything, Yong. My life…it revolves around you. You’re more important than anything else.”

“Win or lose?”

“Win or lose.” Jaehyun dives in for a kiss, slow and deep. Taeyong melts in his arms as hands grip Jaehyun’s shirt, pulling him impossibly close. The wind is cold, almost freezing but the kiss, the shy caress of tongue and teasing gentle bites make their skins feel warm. Jaehyun grunts when Taeyong pushes him up the hood of the Bugatti Chiron, and there’s a knee pressed in between his legs. In front of him, Taeyong grins.

“Have you ever thought of having sex in public,” Taeyong leans in to mouth on the column of Jaehyun’s throat, mapping with his thin lips. “There’s no one around, it’s just us.”

There’s a low rumble in Jaehyun’s chest when he laughs, gripping Taeyong’s waist. “You have practice tomorrow, and I got a manuscript to update; my editor’s about to kill me. You can’t drive with a burning ass, Yong.”

“Touché.”

When they get home, they fall in bed in a messy pile of limbs, hands tearing clothes off of each other.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine tomorrow?” Jaehyun asks, mouth busy sucking and leaving love bites on the racer’s chest. Three of his fingers are knuckle-deep into Taeyong’s ass, scissoring. He’s still so tight no matter how hard they go at it.

“Shut up, you ask so many questions. Just fuck me, please.”

And fucking Taeyong, Jaehyun does just that. It’s raw, oozing with carnal desire. He presses Taeyong down against the mattress, hindering the other from bucking his hips and meeting Jaehyun’s thrusts. Jaehyun presses his lips against his boyfriend’s jaw, inhaling deep, like…like an animal, a predator about to devour his most wanted prey. He fucks harder when he repositions Taeyong’s legs on his shoulders, pounding in deeper into that tight, delicious heat with punishingly fast snaps of his hips. The pleasure buzzes in his system like wildfire, spreading dangerously fast and burning the both of them. The familiar churning in his gut begins and Jaehyun tries his best not to _come_ just yet because he needs to take care of Taeyong first, wants to make sure Taeyong feels better than he does.

Jaehyun angles his hips, sewing into Taeyong with his thick cock, leaving the latter helpless and moaning shamelessly for more, more, _more_ that Jaehyun is all too willing to give. When Taeyong c _omes_ with a loud cry of his name, the walls around his cock clench painfully, forcing him to stutter and release in shorts spurts inside his lover. He gradually slows down and pulls out with a wince, body falling limp beside Taeyong.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you,” Thin arms collect him in a hug which Jaehyun wallows in. They don’t always enjoy the afterglow of sex, always choosing to fall asleep soon after. “I’m going to limp tomorrow.”

“I warned you.”

“You didn’t; you just informed me.” Jaehyun fights the urge to roll his eyes and kisses the other’s forehead.

They fall asleep almost right away with next day practice the least of Taeyong’s concern, and Jaehyun’s deadline and undone manuscript haunting him even in his dreams.

 

 

 

Day of competition.

Since it’s an amateur racing competition, it’s not as huge and packed as Superrace or f1. Nevertheless, the energy of the spectators explodes, filling the arena with supportive families and friends – some wearing uniformed shirts to cheer for their bets, silly hats and other headpieces. Next to Jaehyun is a couple waving a self-made banner, _Mark Lee_ written on it, or more like sewed on it in striking silver with stickers of stars surrounding the name to fill blank spaces. Behind him, a kid blows on his toy horn and it’s deafening, as if it’s blowing right against his ear. Outsiders are not the only ones present to witness amateur racers. Local and international racing teams’ representatives are there as well to watch and spot potential recruits. Jaehyun’s heart hammers, ricocheting almost as loud as the drums beating from the giant speakers blasting music while the race is yet to start. From his spot he sees Taeyong being assisted by a few crew members – checking and rechecking the tightness and safety of his suit (it’s blood red in color with black covering the sleeves. His helmet is tucked under his arm as he drinks). For a second, Jaehyun feels something ugly in his guts because Taeyong is being touched in places before he scolds himself for being petty when his boyfriend is here to compete, nothing more and nothing less. They were together earlier until the writer was politely dismissed so that Taeyong could prepare without distractions. He didn’t forget to give the racer his good luck kiss, by the way.

A signal echoes and the racers put their helmets on before immediately getting inside their respective cars for that day; Taeyong is driving a newly painted Lotus Evora GT430 Sport. It looks fired up for racing, perfect for Taeyong’s taste. He must have chosen it personally.

There are at least 20 racers on track. Engines revved and wheels turned, albeit cars staying where they are. Burnouts are not required, sometimes not recommended depending on the type of car. Taeyong, no. 07, never forgets to impress.

The flag waves and cars charge down the track. They have to round 120 laps to win, and if the try-outs were already gruesome, then this is intensified multiple times. Jaehyun is already dreading the dull pain on his butt later.

20 laps later, Taeyong is doing excellent – he’s not leading but he’s stable, driving is smooth and turns are sharp yet swift. He signals for a pit stop; Jaehyun’s breath quickens as he watches the crew scramble to change one of the tires. He’s not sure why, but it doesn’t look serious. It’s much too quick for him, they’re moving in seconds and then Taeyong’s back on the track. A few others stop for pit service and it’s a chance for Taeyong to retrieve the rank he’s lost earlier.

The crowd remains hyped hours later when there are only a few laps left to finish. Jaehyun calls for a water boy to buy a drink – his throat is parched and he can’t imagine what Taeyong must be feeling right now. He’s also starving, but he guesses Taeyong doesn’t feel any vulnerability at the moment – it’s all a rush of adrenaline flowing in his veins.

To everyone’s horror, one car bumps against another, sending them colliding against the barriers. The couple next to Jaehyun panics and some of the audience clamors; apparently the driver who bumped against another is _that_ Mark Lee. They leave their seats, probably to check on the racer but Jaehyun doesn’t lose his focus on _No.07._

It’s the last lap. The Lotus Evora zooms past the Panoz Esperante in merely three seconds, making Taeyong the lead racer. Jaehyun shoots up from his seat, yelling in between incoherent screams. This is huge, if ever Taeyong wins. He might sign up for the biggest teams; he really wants to get in CJ.

No.07 continues to dash on the tracks while No.13 follows with barely a feet distance. The finish line is within arm’s reach when Taeyong makes a drift at the turn, too advance for an amateur like him and Jaehyun can already see the teams fighting their way to make Taeyong sign their contracts. He grins at the thought and glances at the wide screen above to witness his boyfriend’s victory.

But Jaehyun and the rest of the crowd in the arena sees different. Taeyong drifts too quick, failing to check if it’s safe to straighten and hastily makes a turn when the Esperante catches up and hits the Evora’s side.

Everything happened too fast for Jaehyun’s eyes to catch up – Taeyong’s car loses control and flips over several times, tumbling out of tracks. Crew members from pit stops save themselves, getting out of the way before the Evora crashes against them. Some parts of the car detach and scatter on the track and there’s a smoke coming out of its bumper. It’s a domino effect; the tailing cars lose focus when the Evora crashes, sending the Esperante turning, hitting the other racers although nothing compares to the Evora’s demise.

The announcer’s voice fades in the background when Jaehyun leaves the bleachers to run to the tracks, barely escaping security. His vision blurs at the sight of the car – it’s in its worst state possible, the bumper is crumpled like a piece of paper and more, thick smoke surrounds it. More crew members pop in to immediately kill potential fire while the door of the car is being unhinged. Jaehyun gets blocked from walking further, flailing to get out of their grip.

“Let me go – let me go, that’s my boyfriend! Let me- fuck!” The writer remains helpless when medics arrived and Taeyong’s finally taken out of the car, unconscious and bleeding. There’s so much blood that Jaehyun sees red, yelling to be released as Taeyong’s put on a stretcher and immediately brought to an ambulance.

Prying out of the security’s grip, Jaehyun sprints to the parking lot and hops inside the Bugatti Chiron, speeding along the highway without even buckling up. He might have beaten the red light once too, but no one’s tailing him and it’s the least of his concern now. He can get jailed after making sure that Taeyong’s alright. _Please don’t let anything bad happen to him, please._

 

 

 

The news of the crash spread like wildfire. It’s all over the media; reporters already covering the race had more to say about the crash rather than the winning vehicle. It’s not the Esperante; Jaehyun honestly doesn’t give a fuck anymore. Taeyong’s name and photo are on the television as well, and this is not the recognition he wishes for his boyfriend to get.

Taeyong’s family dropped by at the hospital as soon as Jaehyun called. They never left until the surgery was done. When the painful wait was over, Jaehyun takes the chance to go home and wash up, packing a few things for Taeyong to get busy with once he wakes up. His laptop is in the bag as well, he doesn’t even know if he should touch his manuscript. The only one inside the room is Taeyong’s sister when Jaehyun comes back.

“It’s late; you should go home and rest. Come back tomorrow,” One of the chairs receive Jaehyun’s bag before he sits on a stool right next to Taeyong’s bed. His boyfriend is still unconscious, face littered with a few cuts from the broken helmet, one arm in a sling, and both legs elevated. His legs had received the most damage, its state still yet to be discussed by the doctor. “It’s bad for pregnant women to be stressed.”

Sera smiles and shakes her head. “Don’t worry too much about me. I’ll manage; our driver is waiting at the lobby. Maybe you should worry first about yourself. I don’t think you’ve had something in your stomach since this morning.”

“I’m not hungry. Come on, the mother has to have enough sleep for herself and the baby. Taeyong will wake up soon, I’ll call you.” Jaehyun assures her with a strained smile. He’s trying to be strong for all of them, especially for Taeyong.

She concedes in silent acquiescence, leaving the hospital with another reminder for Jaehyun to get something to eat.

Slowly, he takes in his boyfriend’s frail visage; Taeyong looks so weak right now, so fragile. Jaehyun carefully holds a free hand and gives it the gentlest squeeze. He hopes that Taeyong could feel it. “I won’t leave you, Yong. Wake up soon, okay?”

 

 

 

The crash and loss slipped easily out of Taeyong’s head when he wakes up. They’re both easy to swallow, the fact that he messed up on his first official race and lost the chance to join a team. It happens all the time and it happens even to the senior racers, drivers who have been in the industry for far too long, even to the most famous figures. It’s unexpected but easy to accept.

What he doesn’t understand is not feeling both of his legs when he woke up. There were too much scientific words swimming in his head when the doctor explained it, they’re too deep and technical for him to process. He only realized that he won’t be able to walk anymore when the doctor leaves and it’s only him and Jaehyun inside the room.

Jaehyun wraps him in a loose hug, face buried on Taeyong’s shoulder. Taeyong doesn’t cry; he’s way too calm for someone who was suddenly stolen the privilege and freedom of using his legs. Taeyong takes it too easily, and Jaehyun feels something akin to fear.

Taeyong gets released a week later, and he’s up for physical therapy soon. They’ll see if there’s a chance for him to walk again. At least to take a few, little steps on his own.

“Are you tired? Want to watch something?” Jaehyun pushes the wheelchair into the living room.  Taeyong shakes his head and glances at the clock hanging on the wall, right on top of the television.

“Not that tired. Can we watch Lion King?” Taeyong wheels himself close to the couch and pushes himself up with his good arm, groaning in difficulty as he transfers himself to the plush seat. He puts a pillow on his lap before massaging his thighs, willing the dull pain to go. “Jaehyunie, I want some fruit salad too.”

“Alright, anything for you. What else?” He leaves Taeyong in the living room, vaguely hearing the other say _apple juice, please!,_ and fixes both of them mugs filled with fruit salad, and a carton of apple juice. When he returns to Taeyong, the other is holding out the remote for him to turn the TV on.

They watch in silence; Jaehyun feeding himself with one hand while his other arm is draped around Taeyong’s shoulders. The quietness is comfortable, calming even, although the fear still lingers in Jaehyun’s chest. Taeyong hasn’t said anything about racing since the news about his legs, and it can’t be possible that he’s not breaking down over losing something vital. Jaehyun makes a mental note not to mention things relating to the subject; it’s uncertain whether his boyfriend has developed triggers.

Mufasa dies and Taeyong doesn’t bat an eye. It’s one of the few things that make Taeyong bawl his eyes out. The writer wonders whether it’s normal to be in shock for a long period of time for crash survivors, and maybe he needs to sign Taeyong up for counseling as well.

Pretending that things are fine has become the norm between them. Jaehyun understands that it’s hard for Taeyong, that although he isn’t breaking down as expected, it’s certain that the other must be silently dealing with things on his own and trying to get used to their new arrangement; Taeyong wakes up and Jaehyun carries him to the bathroom to wash him up, Jaehyun dressing Taeyong, Jaehyun pushing the wheelchair here and there if Taeyong wants to go to the kitchen, Jaehyun carrying him back to bed when it’s nighttime. It should be exhausting to have such a routine every single day, but Jaehyun knows he can’t complain. Taeyong cannot go anywhere on his own anymore. It’s _depressing_ to watch his boyfriend live the way he does now, and Jaehyun has to hold himself together. He can’t break; he’s Taeyong’s pillar now.

Taeyong doesn’t tell him anything. Taeyong doesn’t say anything if anything’s hard, if anything hurts, if he wants to cry, if he needs Jaehyun to hold him (still, Jaehyun does it without being asked). He acts as if nothing happened, talks animatedly about _Pokémon Go_ and laughing because he can’t chase the _pokémons_ now, gets silly with Jaehyun every now and then. It looks _too normal, too easy_ and daunting. It’s like the calm before the storm.

 

 

 

“Hold on tightly to the bars and try to balance yourself, then take slow, deliberate steps.” The doctor repeatedly tells him as he trembles, barely supporting his weight; his arm has gotten considerably better now, the sling gone, although it aches from time to time. Taeyong presses his lips into a thin line, grunting occasionally when the pain shoots up his spine like electric current. He can’t depend on painkillers every time. With wobbly legs he takes a step forward, switching to different foot.

“That’s it, you’re doing great!”

He almost lets himself feel proud until he misses a step and slips down, falling _pathetically_ in front of the doctor, a nurse, and Jaehyun. Taeyong bites back any venomous words threatening to slip out of his mouth just to avoid gaining more unwanted attention. Jaehyun also helps him stand and he tries again, back from the start.

 

 

 

If Taeyong had common sense, he would know that nursing himself with alcohol wouldn’t be helpful. It won’t make him walk again. But sometimes, the darkness is strong and it lures him in. When he takes another swig, the liquid burns his throat and his demons whisper how he’s doing _so well._

The door beeps and Jaehyun enters. The lack of lights bothers him for a bit before he notices Taeyong by the tall, glass windows overlooking a part of the city. It’s nearing seven in the evening, and only the lights from outside illuminated Taeyong’s figure. Jaehyun switches the lights on and frowns at the bottle of liquor in Taeyong’s hand.

“Where did you get that,” He steps out his shoes and goes straight to his boyfriend, snatching the alcohol. "I cleaned the fridge yesterday.”

“I called for delivery, of course. I can’t walk, but I can talk.” Taeyong scoffs and wheels himself around to go to the master’s bedroom. Jaehyun disposes the bottle before following.

“How much did you drink,”

“Nothing too much that you have to nag about,” Taeyong grips the handles of the chair and drops his body on the edge of the bed before crawling to settle on the mattress comfortably. “Leave me alone, I’m tired.”

Jaehyun takes a deep breath and heads to the walk-in closet to get changed. “I can’t just leave you alone, Taeyong. I have to take care of you.”

He doesn’t see the pillow aimed his way and it hits Jaehyun square on the face. Taeyong is seething, nose flaring and cheeks flushed.

“Stop treating me like I’m completely disabled. Stop making me feel useless,”

“Taeyong I’m not making you feel useless…?” Jaehyun says in disbelief, picking up the pillow and approaches his boyfriend.  “Where did this come from?”

“I already feel like I lost everything, okay?! You’re treating me like a child- I’m not a fucking child, Jaehyun. I can take care of myself.” Taeyong angrily wipes at his eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. But one drop escapes and rolls down his cheek. Jaehyun’s heart clenches. He stands at the foot of the bed, waiting for more. This is the first time Taeyong has opened up about the accident and Jaehyun wants to let him spill everything, be vulnerable for once and break out of the strong façade.

“I see the way you look at me. I’m not pitiful; I don’t want your fucking sympathy. Keep it.” Taeyong scoots to the headboard, back pressed against it. “Do you even know how it feels losing your greatest dream, Jaehyun? I bet you don’t. You don’t even have dreams to begin with. And don’t start with a spiel about your writing. Artsy people don’t go anywhere. No one reads a book now, Jaehyun. Especially not about a fallen racer,” He pauses for a moment as if thinking before chuckling darkly. “How do I fall, I haven’t even gotten to the top, yet.” Taeyong pulls the covers over his legs, eyes glaring daggers at Jaehyun’s unmoving stature. “Do you know how it felt when that car hit me? When I flipped over and over, hitting my head and shutting my eyes close to avoid shards from stabbing me? When my legs got   stuck and it feels like I was set aflame? When I heard my own bones crack? Jaehyun, I don’t need sympathy. I need nothing from anyone. If I can survive a fatal crash, I can survive calling for fucking delivery.” 

“Are you done?” Jaehyun stares at his boyfriend, face unreadable.

Taeyong is taken aback by the monotonous tone, gripping the covers. “O-of course, what—“

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way, Yong. I didn’t mean it. I’ll…try to be a better boyfriend.” Jaehyun nods, firm. “I’ll get something to eat first. Good night.”

The door closes lightly as Jaehyun leaves the room. Taeyong stares at it for a moment before coincidentally glancing at the nightstand where a picture of them sits idly. It dawns on him then how Jaehyun had changed, at least physically. His full cheeks had hollowed, usually kempt hair now disheveled. He had obviously gotten thinner as well, almost gaunt. The reality knocks on Taeyong’s mind but he refuses to let it in, refuses to consider the possibility that Jaehyun suffers as much as he does because Jaehyun didn’t even lose anything, correct? Whatever Jaehyun feels, it can’t be that bad.

 

 

 

The heat from the sunlight passes through the curtains, hitting Taeyong’s face, forcing him to wake up. The space next to him is already cold. Replaying the scenes from last night, Taeyong sighs and takes his time to rub the sleepiness away. With practiced ease he settles himself on the wheelchair. Jaehyun just finished setting the table when Taeyong wheels into the kitchen. His stomach grumbles and Jaehyun smiles, any hint of the previous night invisible on his face.

“You must be hungry now. Let’s eat, Yong.”

They eat their breakfast in comfortable silence. Taeyong thinks the argument doesn’t matter anymore; Jaehyun’s always been very accepting. Their fight will evaporate into nothingness, forgotten like the past just like all their fights before. Jaehyun never holds grudges, and he’s always willing to indulge Taeyong. Taeyong mentally scoffs. He didn’t do anything wrong this time. He allows Jaehyun to be sweet, feeding him as if they’re on a date.

Days go by routinely – Taeyong attends the physical therapy although nothing improves much. Jaehyun would be disappointed if he skipped. He doesn’t see Jaehyun write anymore. What’s the use, Taeyong can’t race again. He buries it in the back of his mind, thinking that his boyfriend must be busy with something else.

They order Chinese takeout for lunch and goes home. They’re back to normal; Taeyong tells Jaehyun about the game he’s currently playing called _Animal Crossing_. He’s adorable like that, telling Jaehyun about his character living in a village. In the middle of Taeyong’s excited rant, Jaehyun stares at his boyfriend and brushes his knuckles against the other’s cheek. When Taeyong looks up, Jaehyun doesn’t waste a second to kiss those chapped lips.

“I love you, Taeyong.”

“I love you, too.”

When Taeyong leans in for another kiss, Jaehyun feels like things are picture perfect once again.

 

 

 

Except that it’s not.

Something uncomfortable churns in Taeyong’s guts, akin to anxiety in the middle of the night. He tries to see through the blinding light coming from his phone – the time says 2:15. He rolls to his other side, dragging his legs since they can’t move entirely on their own, and reaches for Jaehyun. The other half of the bed is empty.

Taeyong sits up and switches the lampshade on. When he sees the empty bottle of prescription drugs on the floor, next to Jaehyun’s unconscious body, Taeyong screams and calls the other’s name repeatedly hoping that Jaehyun opens his eyes and says _boo! It’s a joke, Yongie, please laugh_ because Jaehyun’s silly sometimes.

Except that Jaehyun doesn’t wake up. Taeyong looks around for anything; he doesn’t even know what he’s looking for when he remembers his phone and dials the emergency hotline, hands shaking. The ambulance is on its way, _it will be there in five minutes, sir, please calm down_. Taeyong cries even more, almost hysterical, why did Jaehyun do that, aren’t they already doing fine?

He reaches for the armrest of his wheelchair to support his weight but his hand slips and the chair moves away with Taeyong falling face down on the floor. He feels so _pathetic,_ so _useless,_ and he curses his fucking legs, curses himself for being careless and getting into an accident because he can’t take Jaehyun to the hospital by himself. He drags himself across the floor and lets the knocking reality inside when he rests his head on Jaehyun’s chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. All this time when Taeyong self-destructs, Jaehyun’s been suffering just as much and he didn’t even care.

The familiar beep of the door echoes and then Jaehyun’s being taken away.

 

 

 

Overdose. Taeyong only nods when the result comes out. He doesn’t have the energy to ask further and wheels into Jaehyun’s room, pressing a cheek onto Jaehyun’s hand. Jaehyun looks peaceful but still very thin, and Taeyong swallows back the sob threatening to rip out of him.

“I’m so sorry.”

Hot tears run down his stern face, wetting the thin sheets of the hospital bed. Taeyong bites down his tongue to prevent himself from making any sound that might disturb Jaehyun and digs the heels of his hand on his eyes, stopping the tears before holding the writer’s hand again. Taeyong mutters something, a prayer of some sort for his _baby_ to wake up and let him make things right again.

Ages seem to pass with Taeyong resting his head on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for any signs of the other waking up. His neck hurts, the angle straining a muscle but he doesn’t move. It’s like self-punishment inflicted. No one else comes in to visit; he didn’t inform anyone, rejecting the memories of earlier. Taeyong, no matter what, doesn’t want to remember more.

It may be selfish to think that he’s the only one Jaehyun needs at the moment when he’s the same person who pushed the latter to do _this,_ to make him think that this is the only way out. When he thinks of why Jaehyun wanted to get out of whatever they are in, he can only conclude one: it’s toxic, Taeyong is toxic and Jaehyun can’t breathe. When he wakes up and asks for freedom, then Taeyong will give it. Isn’t that what everyone says? When you love someone, you have to learn to let them go.

Kind of ironic; Because Taeyong threatened him with a breakup, but Jaehyun never let him go.

He doesn’t know what time it is; a nurse or two have been telling him to eat something because they didn’t see him go out to fill his stomach. He doesn’t feel hungry. He just really wants to be with Jaehyun and he won’t leave even if it’s just for a few seconds. It’s a waste of time.

There’s a light touch on his hair, tickling him out of sleep. Gentle fingers caress the side of his face, ending on his cupid bow. Taeyong looks up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, taking note of the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You don’t look comfortable there,” His voice is hoarse, heavy from sleep. “You can lie down here with me; the bed is spacious enough.”

Taeyong straightens in his wheelchair. Suddenly, all the lines he had practiced in his head vanished. Jaehyun has that kind of power over him. “U-um, hi…”

“Were you worried? I’m sorry, Yong. I had a weakness episode.” Jaehyun chuckles as if he didn’t attempt to end his own life. Taeyong shakes his head and entwines their fingers, kissing Jaehyun’s knuckles.

“I’m just glad…and happy, really happy that you’re still with me.”

“I’m happy too, Yong. I deeply regret what I did. I should be your pillar, but I’m the first one to crumble.” Jaehyun tries to turn the tables, to make himself look like the bad guy because that’s always how it is for them, him appeasing Taeyong’s pride.

“You need to stop doing this, Jaehyun. It’s not your fault. We both know – “

“My editor dropped me. I can’t join the conference anymore. I can’t debut my book on time.” It’s cold when Jaehyun’s hand leaves his. Taeyong stares, throat suddenly feels like enclosing, denying him of air. The book was Jaehyun’s dream. He’s been writing, using Taeyong as his muse. It’s too late to close the door when scenes flashed before Taeyong’s eyes, back on that particular night when he had been condescending, stepping on Jaehyun, breaking him with words sharper than any weapon.

“Jaehyun…”

A finger places itself on his lips, stopping him from saying more. The smile doesn’t leave Jaehyun’s face. “Things happen for a reason. It doesn’t mean it’s the end, Yong. We can start again. Start anew, okay? We both failed, but we can start again.”

Jaehyun tells him to move closer, and when Taeyong leans in for a granted kiss, he feels Jaehyun smile in between.

“Promise me, Yong.”

“I promise…”

 

 

 

Jaehyun unfastens his seatbelt and hops off, quickly taking out the wheelchair from the compartment, unfolding it before he carries Taeyong out of the shotgun seat. After he’s made sure that the Chiron’s locked, he pushes the wheelchair, ignoring Taeyong’s protests of _Jae, I can wheel myself!_   

When they went to KARA for the first time, it was to sign up for try-outs and join the amateur competition. Taeyong didn’t really think further after that, didn’t see himself coming back to cut his connection to the association, if they haven’t done it yet when they witnessed his crash. He mentally reprimands himself for his own, dark humor when he finds it funny how he’s back in the office, but sitting on a wheelchair this time. He wonders how many racers like him ended up in the same situation.

Mr. Cho sends him a smile as radiant as before, although this time he can clearly see an inkling of sympathy in the man’s eyes. Taeyong doesn’t get mad anymore when people give him _that_ expression, convincing himself they don’t mean mockery. It’s better than indifference.

“It’s nice to see you healthy, Taeyong. I was actually hoping you’ll contact as soon as possible. We didn’t want to impose, you know. Good day to you too, Mr. Jung.”

Taeyong responds softly, almost inaudible. He’s not as confident as before; more like he’s lost all of it. Behind him, Jaehyun tries his best to offer all the support he can give.

The president hands a folder to Taeyong. “Please read it carefully.”

Honestly, he just wanted to get over it with a quick sign and leave, go home to take a nap – but when he reaches the end of the letter, Taeyong can only gawk at the president in disbelief. They’re offering him a spot in KARA to be an instructor, precisely.

“How? I’m clearly disabled.” _Are you thinking straight, or have you knocked your brains off with mine when my car flipped over for exactly seven times_ , he wanted to ask. The question must have been written all over his face as Mr. Cho waves a hand, chuckling.

“I am aware of your incapability to use your legs, Taeyong. Instructors don’t necessarily have to drive with the racers. We give classes to kids, particularly those who sign up for Kart racing. Classroom setting. We’ve seen your skills, and we thought it would be a waste to let you go. The board discussed this. We want you here in KARA.”

Jaehyun leans in, patting his shoulder. “It’s still a part of racing, Taeyong. Do you want to do this?”

“We’re not forcing you if you don’t wish to stay with us. We don’t want to impose.”

 Taeyong grips the edges of the folder, hands shaking. Jaehyun’s words at the hospital replay in his head.

“It’s not the end, Yong. Think of what makes you happy.”

 

 

 

Peeking through the small square window on the door, Jaehyun watches Taeyong talk in front of at least 10 kids, all boys. A smile graces his face; his chest warming up at the sight of his boyfriend still living his dreams. One of the kids raises a hand to ask a question, and it must have been a silly one because Taeyong laughs, loud and bouncing against the four walls of the room. He’s undoubtedly happy with his job now. _I’m so proud of you, Taeyong._

Jaehyun steps back when the door opens and the kids file out of the room, meeting their parents waiting in the hallways.

“Are you stalking me?” Taeyong’s tone is teasing. Jaehyun rolls his eyes and closes the door of the room before following Taeyong, the latter clocking out. They bid good bye to another teacher who handles a more advanced class for adults before heading to the parking lot.

“I miss my Chiron baby,” Taeyong moans as Jaehyun sits him shotgun, the wheelchair folded and put into the compartment of the sports car. “Are you sure you’re not letting anyone else drive this when you go out?”

“No one else, babe. One of your friends wanted to, the Japanese, but I remember he was a sh – “

“A shit driver. Yeah, Yuta’s shitty.”

“ – a shit driver, so I said you’d strangle me if I even let him near this beauty. He understood.”

Taeyong rests his head against the tinted window, watching the scenery outside melt into a mixture of images as they speed down the road. _Highway to Hell_ plays in the stereo. “How’s your manuscript?” He glances at Jaehyun who shrugs, focused on driving.

“I found a new editor. I can join the conference next year, around the same quarter.”

“You changed the plotline?”

Jaehyun frowns and shakes his head, slowing down as they make a turn. “No, I didn’t. It’s still about you.”

“But – “

“You still found your happiness, right? Taeyong, I’m just following your everyday adventure.”

Curse the love overflowing in him, Taeyong sighs dreamily and gives his boyfriend’s thigh a few pats. “Right. Are we still seeing Ms. Kim? She asks a lot of questions.” Taeyong groans at the thought of meeting the intimidating counselor again. The last time they went for counseling, she was adamant, not quite appreciative of Taeyong’s silence.        

“She’s helping us work on our relationship, Yong.” Jaehyun replies.

“But she asked me about our sex life! It was embarrassing! Was it necessary to know if we ever had car sex?”

Jaehyun laughs and glances at him shortly before gazing back on the road. “The information might come in handy, who knows? Just trust her, she’s professional.”

Crossing his arms over his chest in defeat, Taeyong begrudgingly agrees.

The car stops at the red light and Taeyong raises a brow when he feels a burning gaze on the side of his face. “What?” Jaehyun is smirking, and he squints at the suspicious writer.

 “We should do it, if she ever asks the details.”

**Author's Note:**

> KARA - Korea Automobile Racing Association
> 
> CJ Sports - under CJ Group
> 
> Zuppa di Cozze - black mussels in a spicy tomato sauce
> 
> Carpaccio di manzo - sliced tenderloin of beef drizzled with truffle oil and topped with portobello mushrooms, capers and shaved parmesan
> 
> Stella Rosa Rosso - italian wine
> 
> Vehicles mentioned:  
> *2018 BMW K1200S  
> *Milan Red  
> *Bugatti Chiron  
> *Praga Invictus Evo  
> *2018 Lotus Evora GT430 Sport  
> *2018 Panoz Esperante 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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